Of Silent Moments
by MilkLog
Summary: There are times when you just can't bear to be alone.


It was of silent moments when they sat together and didn't say a word. Or times when they walked hand in hand. Sometimes it was the feeling of a warm body next to him as he fell asleep, and the lonely hand that was bound to creep up his waist half way through the night. Occasionally it was the sensation of breath on his neck when they sat close together, or hand that was slightly touching his leg.  
And sometimes it was nothing. When the air was still and empty and there was no one beside him. When the call for war had been made and he had left without a single trace of ever being home. He had drawn his sword with blood lust in mind and every tender moment he had experienced pushed to the very back of his mind.  
The nights had been lonely and filled with fears of his return being a bloody one, or his lack of return all together. Metal upon metal, blade against spear, axes clashing upon shields were the only noise that accompanied these dark, lonely nights and the screams of those who themselves clashed with weaponry.  
It was not always the loneliness that plagued those sleepless nights, but the fear of always being alone forever after that. The heart wrenching thought of someone else appearing at that door instead him, with tears in their eyes and blood on their tunic, and the shaking words that addressed his death, was what kept him awake at night. The thought of having to sleep in that bed alone for the rest of his life sent a bloodcurdling chill up his spine, and memories of times before he had had the pleasure to sleep with someone beside him. Those were lonely times, and he was reliving them all over again.  
The night he was due to return was the worst.  
Rain poured down harder than any night before and the battlefield was silent. There were no more metal screeches, or distraught screams. No longer did the shadows cast by a blazing fire haunt the small hut where he sat, hunched and in tears, waiting for return. He silently longed for a single sign that this would soon all be over. He longed for those silent moments, or the times when they walked hand in hand, or the sensation of breath on his neck. He longed for someone to be by his side again.  
It was when the rain had finally died down that he began to hear footsteps. There were several pairs, all of them tapping in different directions, but none walking up the hill and towards the hut.  
Longer still, he waited, his feet tapping nervously and his shoulders shaking violently, he could barely take it any longer.  
Then it came.  
A slow rise of footsteps began to emanate from beyond the hut, growing slowly louder as they drew closer. The urge to throw himself at the door was almost uncontrollable but he held himself back, waiting until he knew who waited on the other side of the door.  
_Knock, knock._  
A quiet rap at the door. The sound was slightly muffled, as though the person knocking was wearing gloves.  
Lifting himself from his seat, hesitant in every step, he began to shuffle towards the door. Every piece of dirt and dust cracking beneath his feet like a whip. In that moment it was almost as if he could hear everything. He was prepared for the worst, nerves and fear eating away at his insides as he pushed gently at the door.  
A figure stood in its wake.  
Wrapped in layers of blood-stained cloth and bandages they were almost unrecognisable in the dim moonlight. All except for a pair of unmistakable bright blue eyes, peering elatedly out from beneath folds of bandages all over his face.  
There had been no second thoughts before an embrace was made.  
Burying his face into Denmark's chest Norway breathed heavily, taking in the musky scent of his dust caked clothes. Denmark rested his chin upon Norway's head, nestling into his hair with a warm fondness. The hug seemed to last forever, even if it was barely a few minutes.  
This was what Norway had been missing. Silent moments when they were together and didn't say a word.  
That was what their love was made up of – of silent moments.


End file.
